Bribery and the God Complex
by xxUchihacest
Summary: AU; SLASH! Wesker/Chris. Chris Redfield is a cop on probation stuck patrolling the streets. Wesker is the owner of a black Porsche parked by a fire hydrant.


**Bribery and the God Complex**

Disclaimer: If I owned Resident Evil, RE5 would be out right now

Pairing: Wesker/Chris

Warnings: **SLASH**. bad language, law-breaking.

Summary: Chris Redfield is a cop on probation stuck patrolling the streets. Wesker is the owner of a black Porsche parked by a fire hydrant.

* * *

'_Officials finally arrested five drug dealers after an ongoing investigation last night at the Raccoon Pier. However, a portion of the dock suffered the damage as C4 explosives were set off in a warehouse were the drug bust was taking place. The Raccoon Police Department's new efforts to eliminate illegal drugs in the city are beginning to receive some negative feedback due to their questionable methods to apprehend criminals. Just two weeks ago, several – '_

The news reporter was silenced as the TV shut off. The man sitting on the couch sighed and tossed his remote onto the coffee table in front of him. Christopher Redfield knew he was going to get it once he stepped foot into the station for work. He'd already gotten grilled the night before about his performance in the drug bust but his chief had wanted to sleep on his punishment instead of acting too rashly and firing him on the spot. Chris was a good cop, a great cop at that. After being 'honorably' discharged from the Air Force due to his problems with authority, he'd joined the Raccoon Police Department in an effort to continue his love of saving lives and bringing lawbreakers to justice. However, old habits died hard, and he was still following his gut instincts instead of listening to reason and following procedure.

Which was why several warehouses at the dock had blown up, and the RPD was slapped with several lawsuits. Chris and his partner Jill Valentine, who was as bad as he was when it came to following the books, had decided not to wait for back up before trying to take the drug dealers into custody. Luckily, no one had died, but three were injured and in the hospital. The five they'd successfully arrested were otherwise unharmed. Chris was currently nursing several bruises, and Jill was at home with a fractured wrist. The warehouses had been empty of people when the bombs went off, but some of the items that had gone sky high were irreplaceable. The drug dealers had admitted to setting up the bombs to destroy the evidence of their manufacturing of meth.

Chris still didn't see what the big deal was. The investigation had been otherwise successful. It shouldn't matter that he hadn't followed proper "drug busting" procedure, but because it was him, he knew he'd be lucky if he wasn't fired. It wasn't the first time he'd cost the RPD several hundred grand and lawsuits. He was on his fourth strike. The event of two weeks ago that the reporter had been about to recap had involved Chris and Jill. It had resulted in an all-day traffic delay on one of the main interstate highways.

* * *

"WHAT?!"

"This is what I should've done a long time ago. Count your blessings that I'm not giving you a desk job, but as it is, I can't have both you and Valentine bitching about doing paperwork for the next three months."

"Please, chief, anything but doing rounds," Chris pleaded. "I hate that job."

"Well, maybe it'll teach you something about following the rules! Pick a car and get started with those citations. God knows we'll need the money after the damage you've cost the RPD. Now get lost, Redfield!" The chief's face was already turning red underneath his grey hair and mustache. He and Chris had been yelling for the past two hours, and he was furious that Redfield even had the gall to talk back to him. But he knew about Chris's problems with administration and had forced himself to ignore them because the guy was just that damn good. Redfield was the man you could count on to cover your sorry ass out on the field or take a bullet for you. He'd never let anyone down, but other than his reliability he was also excellent at catching bad guys and putting them behind bars.

Chris opened and closed his mouth before taking the ticket book from his chief's proffered hand and storming out of the office. Everyone stared at him as he walked by. He was 6'1" with 200 pounds of muscle, and a force to be reckoned with when he was angry. He had a bit of a temper on his bad days, but he was really quite charming and approachable most of the time. Most, if not all, of the women in the RPD thought he was handsome and totally eligible (except for Jill), and his male colleagues admired him. Tanned, brunet, and with blue eyes, he hardly had a difficult time finding a casual fling, but his work took up most of his time and his dedication to the RPD had made his past lovers leave him due to jealousy.

So he took a key from the warden and got in the white Ford with RPD written in blue. He started the ignition to begin his day on the streets looking for illegally parked, speeding, or suspicious looking cars. Raccoon City was a bit of a God-forsaken place with criminals wandering around in broad daylight, and Chris knew he'd run into some trouble within the first hour. He could handle anything from drug dealers to gang bangers to the publicly intoxicated, but he didn't think he'd come across an arrogant, rich, blond foreigner who would change his life forever. It all started with a black Porsche and a red zone of the curb.

* * *

There are reasons why parking is not allowed in front of fire hydrants. Even a simpleton who lacked common sense would know that. It was 6 pm when Chris pulled up next to a sleek dark sports car parked in front of an aforementioned fire hydrant. The entire street was mostly empty, and yet the guy had still decided to park right there. Under the street light, Chris saw that it was a Porsche Boxster and couldn't help but whistle. He wasn't a big fan of cars, but he could appreciate a nice one when he saw it. The tinting of the car was so dark that he couldn't even see inside, and that was another citation he'd had to give the owner. He ripped off the original copy for the first offense and had started writing the second one when a low, British drawl interrupted him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Chris paused and looked up. He'd been expecting a middle aged business man in a crisp, pinstripe suit with greasy, slicked back hair, and a leather briefcase to come screaming at him and threatening to ruin his life. Instead, he saw an older blond male in a long, black coat wearing a tight turtle neck and slacks of the same color. He had to have been about 6', 6'1", 190 pounds, and in his late 40's by the look of maturity in his fine, chiseled facial features. Chris would have been surer about his age if the guy wasn't wearing shades. He looked displeased, but not angry.

"You're parked illegally, and the tinting on your car doesn't abide by state laws," Chris replied, returning to his task. He signed the ticket, ripped it off and walked around the car until he was standing right in front of the other man. He held out the two slips. He could see his reflection in the black lenses as he looked at him. "You have 30 days to either repeal these or pay for them. Have a good evening, sir."

The man chuckled, seemingly unfazed. "Why don't we just forgo them altogether, hm?" he asked with a charming smile.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll start at three thousand."

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Oh, I see. You're one of _them_." His smile didn't waver. "Well, I'll find your sweet spot soon enough."

Chris quirked a brow, his temper rising. "It's illegal to bribe a police officer and – "

"Five thousand, perhaps?"

" – you could get in big trouble – "

"Ten thousand, then."

Chris stopped talking. He seriously couldn't believe this guy. "It would just be cheaper to pay for the tickets."

The man smiled, amused. "I'm not worried about price, I assure you. How about twenty five grand? Isn't that half your yearly income?"

"How about I take you into custody?" Chris said angrily. "Bribing a police officer is a federal offence, and you could face jail time. So, I suggest you take the tickets, go home, and pay for them tomorrow, alright?" He was done being a nice cop. He seriously would have just let the guy go with the tickets and not bring him in for bribery, but he looked like he didn't have a choice. The guy was too smug, was acting too fucking 'holier than thou' than Chris could stand.

"I see." The man adjusted his shades with a gloved hand and let out a soft sigh. "Very well. Just because you can't be bought with money doesn't mean that others can't." He grinned, showing straight, perfect white teeth. "So go ahead, Mr. Officer. Book me. I'll make _bail_, and you won't ever see or hear from me again."

He stretched out his hands. The sleeves slid up, and Chris saw the pale white skin of his inner wrists. Chris took one wrist and got behind him, bending the arm back with unnecessary force. He felt more than heard the man laugh and shoved him face first onto the side of the Porsche, again, with more force than necessary. He took the other pale wrist and cuffed them together under the sleeves and above the lip of the gloves.

"Talk about police brutality." He sounded more amused than angry or in pain. Chris pushed against him harder and was satisfied when he heard a soft grunt of air rushing out of his lungs.

"Shut the fuck up," he said, furious. He didn't know why, but the blond man's words got to him. Chris hated bribery, and he especially hated the people who thought they could avoid the law by doing it. He wasn't one to obey the rules either, but this guy thought he was above them; he thought he could get away with anything just because he had money and power.

Chris hauled him to his police vehicle, opened the back door, and shoved him inside. He hadn't bothered patting the guy down; he seriously doubted the asshole had a weapon on him when he had so much money. He got into the driver's side and started driving towards the station.

"You know, I'd say you're discriminating against me."

Chris's blue eyes flickered up to his rear view mirror. He saw the man's face through the holes of the fence between them. "Really now?" he asked, uninterested.

"Yes. I drive a Porsche. You had automatically assumed that I was a rich bastard with a God complex, and you hate men like me. We make your pathetic job that much more difficult." He paused. Chris didn't say anything, though his grip tightened on the wheel. "You take me downtown without hearing what I really have to say, and I don't believe I've heard my Miranda Rights."

"I also think you like to hear yourself talk. Can it."

A slow, mischievous smirk. "Fair enough. But one more thing."

"What?"

"Can I have your name, Mr. Officer, sir?"

Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he wasn't afraid of him. He had a feeling that if the bastard really wanted it, he could find out everything he wanted about him. "Christopher Redfield."

"Officer Redfield."

Chris had never heard his name said in a British accent. He didn't think he liked it.

* * *

At the station, a million and one people were staring as Chris brought him in. Chris knew that he probably looked bad next to such a clean cut, obviously good looking man, but he didn't care at the moment. Still, though, thankfully there weren't many people there. He led the man to the back and through several secure doors. They finally made it to the holding area. Surprisingly, there were only two people in the cell; a drunk and a wannabe gang banger.

"What's he in for?" Barry Burton asked. He was one of Chris's good friends and former partner. He was probably down there because he'd made an arrest. Usually, he'd be out investigating or at home with his family. Several other routine jail guards looked in their direction in rapt interest.

"Bribery," Chris said as he led the blond into a small room with a table and a plastic container. He locked the door and released the man's handcuffs. The blond turned around and rubbed his wrists.

"So you like it rough."

"Empty out your pockets and put everything in there." Chris said, ignoring his comment. He crossed his arms and stood by the door, watching with wary eyes as the man obeyed without saying anything further.

In the bright, fluorescent lighting, Chris had a better look at him. His blond hair had natural highlights and was still combed back perfectly without any noticeable hair products. His turtleneck was so tight that it revealed every muscle and crevasse of his body, and Chris wasn't too surprised to see that he had well defined pecs and a six pack. And the man wasn't just good looking, he was devastatingly handsome with aristocratic features, though he didn't look approachable at all. Now that Chris thought about it, he could see how the guy could get away with anything with his looks and money. This probably hadn't been the first time he'd bribed a law enforcement officer.

He dug into his coat pockets and took out a ring of keys and two high tech cell phones. He then pulled out a wallet and a small silver case similar to the ones for cigarettes from his pockets. When he was done, he looked expectantly at Chris.

"Is that all?"

Chris pushed himself off the wall and walked up to him until they were inches apart. They were about the same height, though their build was completely different. He reached out and started frisking the older man. It was procedure after all.

"Don't trust me?"

"Of course not." Chris came to a squat and ran his hands down each leg. When he encountered the tops of his boots, he pulled up the pant legs to search for weapons. Sure enough, he found a dagger hidden in the left boot. Chris felt his heart stutter in fear as he pulled it out. The blade was short but wide and sharp. There was an engraving on the hilt. He didn't bother to study it.

He stood. "You didn't use it," he stated as calmly as he could. The man gave him a small smile.

"Should I have?" he asked, his British lilt more pronounced. Must have been because of the echo. Chris tossed the combat knife into the container, ignoring the question. He took him back out to the holding cell and pushed him inside.

"You booking him?" Barry asked. Chris locked the cell gate and nodded.

"Yeah."

"You were supposed to be off the clock at seven, man. It's already eight. I got it."

Chris gave him a grateful smile. "Really? I owe you, Burton."

"Just remember this if I get stuck doing routine shit."

Chris laughed and looked back into the cell, his smile fading. The blond was watching him from behind his shades, through the bars. "You won't give him any problems, will you?" he asked him rather rhetorically.

"Of course not." He smirked. "Can I make a call?"

"That's up to Officer Burton, now."

"Very well." His smile grew. "Good night, Officer Redfield."

"I'll see you tomorrow." Chris turned around and left, suddenly feeling very tired. He felt eyes on his back until the door closed behind him.

* * *

**TBC...**

**I hope you liked this! There will be more. much more. **

**please comment! I'd appreciate the feedback.  
**


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